A Writer's Quandary
So I've gotten some letters about my book, here on known as the Book, and I am here to trash myself on my own blog as to why the Book will never see publication.
What I have writeen, the trite crap that fell from my head, qualifies as fanficiton. With its stilted love scenes, lack of action description, and monologues made of dialogues, if it were smaller than its 4oo some-odd pages it would qualify as something the geeks would post on their "I Love" whatever sites. It all started when I was watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and I noticed that after the third season she just got WHINIER and WHINIER. I wanted a female character that would make Buffy into the sniveling little martyr she is, and Candra popped out. Problem was, she was intended to be merely a monkey wrench in the gears, but instead she got away from me and evolved into a stand-alone character that left Sunnydale in the lurch for far darker places.
I am not ashamed of fucking with the oh-so-sacred Buffyverse, but there's this thing called a copyright, along with the fact that my crap is so trite it makes my head hurt. I write for ME, and for the Shippers, who are my friends that are obsessed with the idea that my crap isn't trite.
I wrote this Back of the Book description thing for what I call the "Paperback Edition for the Shippers", and I'm going to put it up here for those of you interested.
And by the way, Sonya LaPalm isn't my real name.

Candra
After four hundred years, Candra Riley wants nothing more than to age gracefully and finish her life, and the one place that can grant her that release is a Hellmouth. But seeing it all and doing most of it still hasn't prepared her for what she would encounter in the upside down city of Sunnydale...

Buffy
Jaded from years of fighting evil, the Slayer had thought she'd been through everything twice; loss, apocalypse, even death. Just when she thought she'd found a way to get her through the worst of times, something happens in the shape of Candra Riley...

Angel
At one time the most evil of creatures, Angel is a changed vampire after the reinstatement of his soul. Trying his hardest to forget his past and move on with his new life that includes Buffy, he never counted on his past moving with him...

Sonya LaPalm's Candra Chronicles are now collected for the first time! Relive the best fiction created that introduces Candra Riley, the girl who would destroy the Buffyverse and remake it into her own image, in one searing compilation. All your favorite characters, with a darker twist.

Now get over it. I may deserve the accolades for actually finishing something and getting it out of the computer, but as far as giving it to the masses, BAH.
I may rant more about this later, but right now I have to search for tomorrow's Prove Me Wrong.

Stopping the Music, Just For A While
Sorry it's been so long since I've written, but I have an announcement:
The Book is finished. It is Published.
And by published, I don't mean sent to a major house and mass distributed to the greey, must-have reading public, I mean that I rpinted more than one copy and gave them to people who I trust to be brutally honest about my writing. The reason I do this is because my fan base (yes, I HAVE a fanbase) is limited, and extremely biased. I think that I write trite crap that is crappy and trite and ridiculous. Those that have read my stuff (crazy lesbian ex-roommate and hub-unit), have swooned over my prose while I sit in the corner and smack myself for writing trite crap. Did I mention it was trite crap?
But anyway, so I finally went ahead and printed out 458 pages, hand bound in a report folder because I can't afford anything else, one whole volume containing three stories about my heroine Candra Riley. I hope my critics like it.
God, I have made a HUGE mistake.
No, I haven't.
Oh sweet jebus, yes I have.
AAAAAAAAAAIIIIIGHHHH!!!!!!!!
I need a cigarette.

Again With The True Washington Story
Well, this tale is drawing to a close, so I'll finish up the last few deets for you that are interested:
September 26, 2003: We arrive back here in WA, tired and in my case bent-over sore, and as I walk up the stairs to the apartment he rented just for us just before he left to pick me up, I notice the flowers.
You heard me. Flowers.
Rose petals scattered up the stairs and into the apartment, leading up to another dozen long-stemmed reds and a bottle of champagne courtesy of his cohort the ASSMA across the parking lot. (No longer is she the next-door neighbor thank god) Even better, there is waiting in the bathroom a tub full of bubbles and overflowing with candles and smelly stuff to relax with after a ong and arduous journey.
At this point, I have known the hub-unit for exactly a month and a half, most of which I was in Florida for. We took a bath together, drank some champagne, and snuggled closely together in his full-size bed (GAH) to get some sleep in preparation of the CRAP to come.
The next almost-two-weeks is filled with paperwork, insurance forms, adding of my name to EVERYTHING, yadda yadda spoink because, soon on October 13th, he will be leaving for three months in Japan. JAPAN.
So here I am, still in pain as I will be for at least another week, doped up on painkillers and squishing my water bottle and depressed as all hell that he's leaving so soon, and my inlaws call.
I won't get into my inlaws. They are strange, dominating people who believe that nothing is their fault and apparently I am the antichrist and... But I'm getting away with myself. The inlaws will be discussed at a later date, perhaps when I have nothing else to write, so let's just say that they called and it wasn't fun and there was yelling and we'll move on.
October 13, 2003: For the first time, I see a man cry. A lot. This is the hardest thing I have ever had to go through in my life, and to this day it still is. He left at midnight, and me without a driver's license I oculdn't even take him to the airport. I cried....TONS.
For the first few weeks we talked via email and video chats, and then he got a phone in his room. I won't go into that either, but that part was fun.
And while he was gone, and he was getting almost a grand a month in perdiem, and I had his credit card, I redecorated the apartment. I know, i know, you think that is a totally chick thing to do, but it really wasn't. It was a direct order from the hub-unit to use that money and whatever else I could scrounge up to make his dreary (SUPER) bachelor pad into a home complete with curtains kitchen gadgets and a new bed. I think I did pretty well. And in January of next year, if I'm still around, I'll tell the story of what happened when he came home.
Because that brings me full circle, kids. I started this blog in November of last year, and that's where you all met me.

PS ain't my life some kinda crazy teen soap? I mean, who else is as crazy as I am when I put my mind to it?

OH yeah.....
And I DON'T use spellcheck.

The True Washington Story, Concluded (AGAIN)
Mood:  amorous
Now Playing: Fucking Pokemon Colosseum Music in the background
Yesterday was my ONE YEAR WEDDING ANNIVERSARY, so today I am going to finish telling about what happened oh so long ago. I can't even remember when I started the story, but those fo you that have been reading me for a while know where I am going with this. Here Goes:
September 11, 2003: The future hub-unit begins his massive, all-alone trek across the country to come pick me up. I am now pregnant with some other guy's baby, despodent over my lack of money and job skills, and 3500 miles away from any family member. This guy is INSANE to come get me, but hey, who am I to argue with such wacky determination? I start re-packing my stuff and wait all jittery-like in anticipation. His parents are not happy with his decision to just up and marry some girl, his co-workers don't believe him, and none of my friends believe me. However, my parents are in shock because some strange man called and asked if he could marry their eldest daughter OUT OF THE BLUE. To continue:
He arrives in a record THREE DAYS, and immediately is forced to propose in front of everyone there because he asked me over the phone and that's just apparently not acceptable. Did I mention I had to buy the ring and the dress by myself? With my meager unemployment check? Fun fun. We stay two days, most of which is spent discussing under cover of darkness what to do with the fetus currently sprouting in my womb. At this point, we have decided that since he will be leaving in OCTOBER for JAPAN, me being alone and pregnant is a bad idea given my mental state. The BBF, who I am living with in her parent's house, is very pro-baby, so I cannot tell her this and that is severely depressing.
Over the next few days we have a few meals, go to the zoo, and repack my things. All the boxes my stuff is in will not fit into his truck, so we pack everything, AGAIN, in tupperware tubbs. SO FUN.
The day we leave the BBF's mom, bless he heart, sabotages the truck with tons of sticky clingy things shaped like hearts and four-leaf clovers. By the time we get to them, they are baked on in the Florida heat, making his manly truck just a little girly. I give everyone hugs, and we grab my cat and my wedding dress and start on our way.
It's a typical road trip, other than the MASSIVE pain I am suddenly in, and we try for at least 13 hours of driving a day. I'm trying to be quiet, but apparently my body doesn't take well to being knocked up and I am a hurting unit.
Friday, September 19: Oklahoma City, OK. Just a few moments before midnigh, I run to the bathroom bleeding profusely. The baby, which we had agreed to terminate when we got back to Washington, has decided to make me helpless in the situation and take away my choice in the matter by terminating itself. I will bleed for the next seven days, and the pain will be intense.
I swear, that's the worst it gets in this story.
September 21, 2003: We arrive in Las Vegas, Nevada, after discussing our marriage options and deciding that sweet jesus we don't want our parents there. Either of us.
Our first stop is the Crappiest Motel on Earth. The charge us DOUBLE for having the cat, and the doors are key locks. Inside, there is no showerhead, just a pipe, and someone has smashed the channel buttons on the TV. The future hub-unit is irate because he doesn't want me to spend any time there, blah blah I deserve more, blah. Suddenly, the cat SCREAMS. She has wandered behind the dresser in our room and is now flailing widly in the center of the room, stuck to something. It turns out to be one of those no-kill pest strips with the gluey stuff on it, and she has two feet stuck to it. Upon further investigation, it turns out that there are several of these things behind the dresser because there is a THREE FOOT HOLE IN THE WALL. IN THE WALL.
We check out and are running across the street to HoJo's in ten minutes. We have been at the Crappiest Motel in the World for exactly 45 minutes.
September 22, 2003: The preparations begin, and they take ALL FUCKING DAY. The wedding itself costs 170 dollars, with a hefty discount because he was in the military. Plus, they promised to broadcast our wedding on the internet for free. Lots of phonecalls later, truly.
We had it videotaped, sent over the internet, and my mom even sent us an email toast as she watched her oldest child walk down the isle, looking VERY nervous.
September 23: On the road again. We finally stop at a Petrified Forest Park and kick ourselves later for not buying peterfied dino poop for gifts. Because what's better than giving stone dino poop and saying "now don't ever say I never gave you shit". Tee-hee.
The story's not even CLOST to being over, but I have to start dinner. So I'll finish later, or tomorrow.
Keep smiling.

Prove Me Wrong Goes Triple Platinum!
No seriously. As for those that answered (WALLY), here's what I can award points for:
Jackie Kennedy DID lose a baby, but it was August 23, 1956, four years BEFORE Kennedy announced his candidacy. So there's one.
As for Booth, he was finally apprehended in a "tobacco warehouse (shed)", so you get a half point about the barn thing. And technically, if you look at the transcripts, the Repository IS a warehouse. If he did indeed shoot Kennedy, but that's another post.
As for WHERE I get MY information...
Not tellin'.
Time to hit the books, and next week you'll get another one!

Prove Me Wrong
Mood:  chillin'
So I'm going to start a new feature here called Prove Me Wrong. It's where I'm gonna post random bites of info and I want you guys to either gape in astonishment at my knowledge or post where I fucked it up. Basically something for you websurfers out there to do with your time. Later, maybe tomorrow, I'll try something else. Here goes:
STRANGE COINCEDENCES----
Lincoln was elected President in1860, Kennedy in 1960. Each was concerned about civil rights, and each had a child die while he was in the White House. Each was assassinated on a Friday, in the presence of his wife. Each was shot in the head, and from behind. Lincoln's secretary, named Kennedy, advised the President no to go to the theater. Kennedy's secretary, named Lincoln, advised that the President not land in Dallas. John Wilkes Booth was born in 1839, Lee Harvey Oswald was born in 1939. Booth gunned down Lincoln and ran to a warehouse, Oswald gunned down Kennedy in a warehouse and ran to a theater. Both men were killed before standing trial. The successors of both Kennedy and Lincoln were named Johnson. Andrew Johnson was born in 1808, Lyndon Johnson was born in 1908. Both were Democrats from the south who served in the senate. The names Lincoln and Kennedy both contain seven letters. The names Andrew Johnson and Lyndon Johnson have thirteen letters each. The names John Wilkes Booth and Lee Harvey Oswald both have fifteen letters.
There ya go, kids. Prove me wrong.

And The Wheel Goes Round...
Mood:  accident prone
Still sick, but now it's worse.I have a couple of things, but right now I'll just stick with the rest of what happened this week:
Wednesday: My friend with the nolonger gall bladder? Her boyfriend dumped her. HARD. I had to go pick her up so she could hang until he went to work. WITH MY HUSBAND. Her story is that he just said they should go their seperate ways. His story to my husband was that he had a super-submissive girl on the side that he met in a sub/dom chat room. At this point, (early monday morning) they have decided to both remain single while he sorts out his issues and gets some therpay. I like aggressive men, HATE the kinky dominant ones. Believe me, this guy is interesting to chat with, but in VERY small doses.
Oh, and I tripped and fell on a broken plate. Lots of first-aid needed.
Thursday: A bill collector calls and tells me that if I don't cough up 3 grand by monday they're going to sue me for it. Instantly I am plunged into a severe depression that the hub-unit can't pull me out of, and while I'm wallowing in guilt and down-ness I run into the door jamb. And then later while attempting to make Spamwiches (yum!), Hot oil splatters into my eye and effectively melts my contact lens. MY EYE!!! Did I mention that I have a thing about eyes?
Friday: uWe end up not sleeping ALL NIGHT and are up at dawn to try and apply for a loan. We are running around like dying chickens from 9AM to 3PM, and then we get the money. Suddenly, we're 3 grand richer. The debt collecter starts salivating at the prospect of getting their money, but when I tell them I have no job, they knock it down to 700 dollars. The hub-unit and I are now 2300 dollars richer, and we begin to salivate at the prospect of finally doing some home improvement. I don't remember injuring myself, but right before bed I notice a painful lump that has materialized on my HEAD right at my hairline. At this moment, it's still there and it still hurts.
Saturday: Right off I start to clean and end up whacking my nose with an extension cord. While I am bleeding I feel the need to shower. So does the hub-unit. After a few moments of fooling around, we towel off just enough to not get the sheets damp and....(DETAILS DELETED FOR DECENCY) suddnely the pain is so bad I start sobbing and I can't stand up straight and ten minutes later I'm in the ER with soap drying in my hair and feeling very embarrassed. Doctor's orders: no more boy-on-top sex. WTF??? It looks like I have something wrong with my uterus, and it was aggravated. MAJOR EMBARRASSMENT when explaining why I'm in so much pain "Well doc, we were having normal honest to god sex for the first time in a week and something just spazzed and now I can't walk upright..." BLEAH. We spend the rest of the day wlaking SLOWLY around WalMart as I try to find some clothes for fat chicks that fit, along with new curtains for the living room and new toys for the monkeys. I trip in WalMart and almost take down an entire display of Pumpkin Pie Filling. Did I mention I was in the ER for FIVE HOURS????
SUNDAY: What begins as a routine trip to buy cigarettes becomes a marathon shopping spree. New purchases include a pile of used books, a new microwave, some new countertop cannisters for my baking stuff, a new phone with extra handset for the bedroom, some Kitty Condos, and more curtains because the ones we bought the day before turned the living room bright green when the sun shined through them. At home, I drop the new microwave on my foot and am benched for the rest of the evening but my somewhat-concerned hub-unit.
Look, there's a whole lot I left out, but what with the whole constant pain thing, I can't go into super detail. I'll post something later today though, when I wake back up.
And I KNOW, I was supposed to post a trivia question and I never did. I'll just post an intersting bit later and see what yall think of it.

Sicker than a dog but still blogging
So I'm sick. Barfing all over. But does the hub-unit get sick? OF COURSE NOT!!!!
Kinda cute: The Navy presented me with an award for dealing with all their bullshit while my hubby stays in their clutches. They do it for all the spouses when their other re-enlists.
Yes, the hub-unit is very healthy and very much stuck still in the navy. Three years to go and then we're free and clear....
Bad news: Got the Doctor's results from my colposcopy and it doesn't look so good. "moderate to severe cervical dysplasia" is the diagnosis, which means more surgery. It's actually more of a more in-depth biopsy, but still. They are going to cut more chunks out of me. CHUNKS. BIGGER CHUNKS. The procedure's scheduled for next month, and until then I'm going to be in some pain, apparently. Yay. Yippee. Really. And to make everything better, once I get this thing done I can't have sex for at least a month. For fuck's sake. I quit.
And what does my mother think? Not a damn thing about the pain or the oozing or the mutated cells, oh no, she was immediately concerned about the ability to have babies.
I could go on, but sitting up is kinda hard to do for long periods of time. Guess I won't be ranting for long periods of time for a while.
Consider yourselves lucky. I'm full of rantiness, too.

I WON'T Talk About Michael Jackson, I WON'T Talk About Michael Jackson
Mood:  chillin'
For those of you that haven't seen the 1986 flick "Heavy Metal Parking Lot", it follows the goobs that hang out before a Judas Priest concert. It's great. There's a show on the Trio Network that follows the sam vein called "Parking Lot", and this is what I've been trying NOT to write about. But damn my eyes, tonight's was about Michael Jackson, and I just couldn't fucking RESIST...
Because I saw HER.
January of this year I went on a road trip with the Hub-unit to introduce him to my family, considering the fact that I had been married for three months already. At the last stop before heading home, we visited my aunt Marcie, my favorite relative. On an outside smoke break in her front yard, this woman with a dog comes up to us. She has that nervous, constantly-talking thing going on, but we try to be friendly.
Thing is, she's got facial hair. And not just a little easily-bleachable moustache, but a totally grown goatee lokkin thing chilling on her chin. She kept talking about how this was such a nice place, nicer than... I forget where. But she kept talking, and the three of us were getting uneasy because she was a total stranger with a BEARD and, well, it was fucking almost midnight and it was freezing and I'm not really a people person, especially a strange people person.
Believe me I have a point here.
So fifteen minutes ago I'm watching the crazy fanatics that worship Michael Jackson and support him despite the child molestation charges blah blah blah, and omyfuckingGAWD- It's HER. The crazy bearded lady from Norhtern Cali! What the fuck is she doing in SANTA BARBARA?
They keep the camera on her for EVER because she's got this HUGE Michael Jackson banner and she's talking about her love and support for the Wacko and how she's had a Michael Jackson museum for 20 years. Suddenly, I'm not surprised that I have met this person.
Lately, I never am.
And when the hub-unit comes home, you know I'm gonna shreik HOLY SHIT IT WAS HER! HER! HEEEEEEEEEEER!!!!!!!!!!
I'm almost tempted to go on a tear about the Michael Jackson thing, but my shock from seeing the weird chick is nearing overdom, and I feel the need to cuddle up to some Law and Order (Best Show EVER, btw.)